


Broken beads

by Annessarose



Series: Beads of Silka [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alderaan, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Death Star, Deathfic, Episode: s02e18 Shroud of Darkness, Episode: s02e22 Twilight of the Apprentice Part 2, Family Feels, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Friendship, Gen, Rex finds out about Anakin, Star Wars Rebels: The Siege of Lothal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annessarose/pseuds/Annessarose
Summary: Three times their training bond sparked after the clone wars, and the one time it didn’t.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano & Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Kanan Jarrus & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, R2-D2 & Ahsoka Tano
Series: Beads of Silka [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752805
Comments: 27
Kudos: 211





	1. Contact

**Author's Note:**

> First fic - hope you enjoy!

Your name is Ahsoka Tano.

When you were fourteen, you were the Commander of armies and a regular presence on battlefields soaked in sweat and blood. When you were sixteen, you were framed for an act of terrorism by your best friend and the only family you had ever known turned their backs on you, then tried to cover up for their mistake by telling you it was a test. When you were seventeen, the only family you had ever known was crushed into dust, from the youngest toddler to the eldest master, and your former master (brother) and grandmaster (father) vanished and the bond you had formed with them had disappeared and died. When you were seventeen, the battalion you were leading turned on you and tried to kill you while one of your best friends fought against his brothers. When you were seventeen, you were left alone in a desolate galaxy led by a tyrant and you were hunted just for being raised the way you were.

Fourteen years later, you find yourself longing for the clone wars, because at least that meant your family was still alive. At least that meant there was so much more hope. It was awful and bloody and you had seen so much death, but at least the galaxy was free (in a way) and you had others you were close to.

But there’s still hope. Even after all these years, Viceroy Organa and Senator Mothma are still fighting, their heads held high and strong. Every year, the leaders of the Alliance come together to commemorate the rebellion. The base is usually uproarious on those days, loud and cheerful and bright to boost morale. The first year you attend this celebration, you find Bail and Mon and the other original founders late in the night, holding a quiet vigil to those they have lost. Breha Organa gives a quiet toast to Padme and you can feel the loss radiating from their group like an open wound, raw and sharp, and you say nothing because you think you’ll break apart if you open your mouth. You remember her smile, her willfulness, how steadfast she was as a friend, and you remember the holovid of her funeral and how wrong she looked as still as a plastoid statue.

Later that night, you find Artoo in your quarters. He whistles mournfully, telling you that you aren’t alone. You muster up the strength to tell him that you’re glad he’s there and you admit that you miss your family. Artoo beeps in understanding, seems to hesitate, then he projects a holovid. If you weren’t looking at the holovid, you would have been wondering how the kriff Artoo could look sad and wistful while being a bucket of bolts.

But you are looking at the holovid. The breath seems to leave your body and you can’t help but clap a hand over your mouth. It’s a short vid, maybe two seconds looping over and over endlessly, but you can’t take your eyes away. It must have been taken during one of those nights on the _Negotiator_ , during the hyperspace downtimes on the way back to Coruscant. In the vid, Anakin is sprawled on a couch in the common area, long legs dangling over the edge with his head lying on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, whose arm is forever squished in an uncomfortable position while somehow being able to fall asleep in a half-sitting position, his head lolling back. On the side, Rex is approaching them with a blanket, his eyes sparkling with fondness.

You stare at the holovid that Artoo keeps looping, freezing them in time, and you burst out laughing because Anakin and Obi-Wan look so ridiculous. The hysteria begins to overwhelm you and no amount of Jedi training helps you to stop, and suddenly, your laughs turn to sobs and you’re kneeling on the ground beside the projection, one hand over your mouth and the other reaching for them, knowing you’ll never hear their banter or their laughs or see their smiles again. You think of the last time you saw them, how the last time you saw Anakin you pushed him away and how you spent the last minutes you’d ever spend with Obi-Wan bitter over what the Council did to you, and you feel the massive hole in your chest that had already been feeling empty since the Jedi died start to ache again. The pain grows until you’re curled up on the ground, hugging yourself, staring at the holovid that you want desperately to go back to. Artoo whistles quietly and you throw your arms around him, needing _something_ to hold on to, and to your surprise (although it really shouldn’t be surprising), he extends a small arm from one of his compartments and gently taps you on the back with it. _I miss them too_ , he tells you mournfully, and you think that if he were human, he’d also be crying.

(When you go to sleep, Artoo is there in the corner of your room, watching over you. You’ve calmed down at that point, but this time, when you reach into the Force to try and help you quiet your mind, you find traces of Anakin’s presence still lingering on the little droid. It makes sense, after all - Anakin had spent hours upon hours making improvements to Artoo - so it’s no wonder the astromech still has a tiny but lingering connection to his master. The nostalgia and hurt surges up in you again, but at this point, you’re too empty to cry, so you lie there until you fall into your dreams.)

In the present, you find yourself with a little ragtag group of rebels. To your surprise, after fourteen years, you see someone you recognize from the temple. Caleb. He’s changed his name now - he goes by Kanan, you remind yourself - and he’s definitely different than when you last sparred with him over a decade and a half ago. His Force presence is cracked, fractured and put back together, and one night, you both sit in meditation and reflect on what you have both lost.

Now, you’re standing on a command ship as it lies helpless under attack from Imperials. The pilot in the TIE advanced is skilled - from what you can see on the holomap, he or she is doing _splendidly_. “How can one fighter outmatch an entire squadron?” growls the Commander, and in the Force, you can sense that the anger in his voice is masking the growing fear in his stomach.

“You pilots are outmatched, Commander,” says Hera, and you can feel her determination even without the Force. She turns and races for the door, her mind set.

“What are you doing?” asks Kanan.

“Getting involved,” she answers, then she runs without looking back.

Kanan shakes his head, his fondness colouring the Force. “Not without me, you’re not,” he says to the closing door, then races after her. Sabine races after them with a quick word to hurry up to Ezra, but he hesitates, seeming to sense something from you.

“Mind if I tag along?” you ask, feeling the urge to go out and do something useful. Ezra smirks and waves you along, and you’re reminded of yourself in the earlier days of the clone wars, eager to fight and to help out your family.

There’s no time to lose. The moment you’re in your seat, the command ship jerks and the voice of the Commander crackles over the comm, startled and fearful. “We’ve lost our shields!”

“ _Ghost_ moving to engage!” snaps Hera, her voice tight with controlled emotion, and she swerves with an expert hand towards the TIE advanced flying menacingly around the rebel ship.

“I’m on him,” says Sabine, and she pulls the trigger. Normally, she only needs one or two shots to bring down a TIE fighter. Normally, the pilot would not have reacted the way this one did, spiralling as if he knew the shots were coming before Sabine pressed the trigger.

Normally, the Dark Side would not have blossomed out from the view in front of you. Coldness mixed with rage and hatred and pain washes over your senses, dulled by the distance in space. Your eyes narrow and you focus on the presence, missing the words of the Commander crackling over the comm as a trickle of familiarity starts to tickle the back of your mind.

From the little you can get from a glancing sense, you might have mistaken the presence for Count Dooku. It’s just as Dark, just as cold, with the same deep-seated rage and hatred. But Dooku is dead. Dead at the start of the clone wars. And what’s more, from what you remember, the Count never radiated so much pain or suffering. He caused it, but he rarely held it within himself.

“-o _Ghost_! We can’t withstand another attack from that fighter!” You’re brought back from your thoughts by the panic in the voice from the comm.

“Copy that,” Hera responds in a clipped voice, then relays orders to focus fire.

The Ghost spirals and turns on the fighter. Behind your seat, you can feel Kanan’s unease - not at the dying command ship, but at the strange pilot in the TIE advanced you can see from the cockpit window. “The Force is strong with him,” you murmur to Kanan, who seems lost in thought. “Kanan,” he snaps his head up abruptly, startled out of his thoughts- “let’s find out how strong.”

“How can I help?” he asks, doubt colouring his voice.

You give him a small smile and send him a wave of reassurance in the Force, which he matches with gratitude. “Just remember your training,” you say, and you turn to the front and sink into the Force.

You feel his hand on your shoulder and you feel his presence beside yours, reaching out and lending you a helping hand. Kanan’s senses are less focused than yours, more hesitant, but strong nonetheless, and you give him a nudge of encouragement as you both try to lock down the Dark presence in front of you.

The TIE pilot must be a Dark acolyte, at least - from the little you can pin down at the moment, you can tell he is stronger than what you remember from Ventress. He proves difficult to pin down - the Darkness is muffling your senses and there is an itch at the back of your mind. A knot begins to form in your stomach, a bad feeling pooling in your gut. Part of you wishes that Anakin or Obi-Wan were here. They would know what to do. For a split second, you imagine that your old training bond with Anakin seems to be tickling your mind, but you push that away. Now is not the time for distractions.

Dimly, immersed as you are in the Force, you can hear parts of Ezra’s voice from over the comm. “-know who-” The bad feeling you have begins to grow and your brows furrow as you push against the Darkness in front of you. “-something. Kanan- -too.” With the help of Kanan, you push through the fog of Darkness. “-fear-” In the back of your mind, you can sense Ezra’s rising panic as he seems to register who you are all facing before you do. “-anger-” You finally break through the fog and hit the terrifying mental shields of the Darkness, your mind now positively gnawing at you with something big, something huge that you’re missing. “-hate-” You slam an attack against the shields, hoping to distract the Sith - because you know now, this is definitely a Sith - then you double down on your shields to prepare for a retaliation that the Sith will undoubtedly throw at you.

And suddenly, a bond that had lay dead for over fourteen years comes sparking to life, horribly sharp and burning, but it’s all wrong and cold and filled with such rage and hatred and-

“-the Sith Lord we faced!”

Through the Force, you hear the same voice you’ve heard on security recordings and in secret data files, perilously retrieved from a dangerous mission, and through the bond, you hear that voice alongside another that you thought you would never hear again.

_The apprentice lives._

Someone screams, a howl of agony so foreign and strangling that you have trouble placing where it came from, and it isn’t until the world spins and tunnels into darkness that you realize that it came from you.


	2. Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping in mind that i'm writing this as S7 of TCW is coming out, I'd like to add that this chapter is spoiler-free for the new season. 
> 
> All I can say is that Dave Filoni knows how to destroy my emotions. I'm not ready for May 4th.

Over ten rotations later, you find yourself on an Alderaanian command ship in a meeting with Viceroy Organa.

It’s a standard intelligence debrief meeting. It should pose no problem, but your mind is distracted and you find yourself tripping over mistakes you haven’t made since the first time you took up the mantle of Fulcrum. After ten minutes of frustration, even without an ounce of Force Sensitivity, Bail picks up that something is off and he turns to you in concern. “Are you alright, Ahsoka?”

You remember that Hera had reported your reaction to connecting with the TIE pilot. For a moment, you want to blurt out a question and demand _why_ he didn’t tell you about Anakin, but you stop yourself. For one, he might not know, and for another, if he knew you were emotionally compromised, he wouldn’t let you search for answers. You can’t begrudge him that - it’s just how missions should work. 

Still, you want to know. You _need_ to know. So instead, you find yourself plastering a weak smile on your face. “I’ve been better,” you say wearily. “I’m still a little off from having my mental shields attacked.” 

“Could you-” Bail hesitates, and you realize he knows the truth, which means you _can’t_ tell him you know. “Did you figure out who it was?”

“No,” you say. “I couldn’t recognize whoever it was.” After searching your face for a couple of seconds, Bail nods, then continues with the debriefing a little more slowly, to your relief. 

He ends the meeting with a fatherly concern in his voice that makes you ache for Obi-Wan. “Take care of yourself, Ahsoka.” He gives you a firm pat on the shoulder and sends you on your way. 

Back in your quarters, you find yourself staring at your old silka beads, recovered from the little of Padmé’s possessions that Bail could find in her ship. She and Anakin had been close - closer than friends, you know that much - and despite yourself and your reluctance to even think about his fate, you wonder if her death had something to do with his Fall. 

You can’t help but wonder if you had something to do with it, too. 

(What if you hadn’t left?)

Two weeks later, you find yourself inside a Jedi Temple again for the first time since you were sixteen. As you walk, you can feel Kanan’s emotions, a mix of relief at being surrounded by the comforting Light and a sadness of loss of the Coruscant Temple and its people, and you gather your own emotions and release it into the Force. Behind the three of you, the Temple door closes, stone grinding against stone, but none of you feel concern at being trapped inside. The Force here is a gentle Light. 

“How did you contact Master Yoda here?” The last time you saw the little green troll, it was during your trial, but after fourteen years of living in darkness, you find it hard to hold bitterness in your heart against the Council. 

It’s hard to hold a grudge against people who had been brutally betrayed and murdered by the men they trusted.

“Well,” Kanan huffs, uncertain, “he kind of came to us.” 

“I thought I was dreaming when I first heard Master Yoda’s voice,” says Ezra. 

“And I was meditating.” Kanan glances at you, unsure, and you give him a small smile in reassurance.

“Then perhaps that’s a good place to start,” you say, and the three of you kneel on the stone floor and sink into the Force. 

The Temple calls to you all in its own way, and soon enough, you find yourself alone. In your meditation, you cast out your senses into the galaxy. The murk of the Dark Side is there, yes, but it’s held back by the Light in this Temple. 

Something tickles the back of your mind and you think you hear Anakin call your name. 

( _Ahsoka._ )

You glance around, then shake your head. Anakin is… gone. One way or another, he’s no longer with you. 

You close your eyes again and sink into a quiet meditation again, feeling the Force around you. Distantly, you can sense Ezra and Kanan, facing their own journeys, their presences muddled but bright. You focus on the tangible Light in the air, left over by the Jedi who built this place thousands of years ago, on the rock beneath your knees, on the fabric of your gloves sitting snug against your palms and your lightsabers resting against your legs, on-

_Ahsoka._

Your eyes fly open as your old training bond lights up again. Unlike the last time, it’s dull and muted and a little off, and you realize that it’s the Force dredging up your last memories of the bond’s activity. Around you, the temple is dark and blurry, and you find yourself in the throes of a vision.

You can’t bring yourself to care as you feel a hole that has been gnawing quietly at your chest since you connected with Ana- with Vader start to widen. 

_Why did you leave?_

Behind your back, a presence blooms in the Force, familiar but also strange. For a moment, you can’t find your voice and something catches in your throat. You tell yourself that it’s a vision, that Anakin isn’t really there, but the other end of the bond feels so hurt and real and _so much like your master(brother)_ as the Force starts to answer a question you’ve been asking. Guilt claws at your chest and you find yourself thinking about how happy he - the real Anakin - was to see you the last time you truly reunited, and how you rebuffed him because you were afraid and bitter. 

You’re terrified, now. You’re terrified of turning around and seeing the bitterness and hurt on not-Anakin’s face because you know you’ll lose control if you see it. The feeling of loss constricts your throat and for a moment you can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t respond. 

_Where were you when I needed you?_

It’s a vision, you tell yourself, he’s not really here, but your mental chanting is not enough and you find yourself whispering, “I made a choice. I couldn’t stay.” 

It’s just as well that you left, because you know you would have fallen with the Temple. 

_You were selfish._

His voice, laced with contempt, hits you like a blaster bolt to the gut. “No!” You gasp out, but in your abdomen is the sinking feeling that not-Anakin is right. Part of your mind is repeating over and over that this is a vision, that you’re not responsible for what happened to him, but the ache in your heart is starting to physically hurt and you can feel your own despair colouring the Force. Your nails start digging into your palms and you try to focus on the physical pain to ground yourself, but it’s no use.

_You abandoned me. You failed me!_

His voice is so _real._

It’s so real it hurts just hearing it again, but the words that not-Anakin snarls at you hurts as much as a lightsaber wound. You want to draw on the Force to help you calm down as your vision starts to blur with tears, but the more you draw on it, the deeper you go into the vision, and you don’t kriffing want to be here. 

_Do you know-_

Your hand inches towards your saber, trying to reach for some comfort, _anything_ , to keep you calm. 

_-what I’ve become?_

His voice descends into a terrifying growl with the last three words. Your denial rises up, quick and useless, and you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the pain. “No,” you choke out. It’s no use - you can’t dull your Force sense, not here in the temple, and even with your shields up at their highest, you can’t ignore the excruciating pain and cold and hate radiating from your training bond. Not-Anakin’s presence Darkens and you shiver and how _wrong_ it feels. 

Thoughts that have been haunting you since that time on the _Ghost_ rise up. What if you had stayed? Would he have Fallen if you were there? What if you hadn’t wallowed in your guilt and spat it out in bitterness the last time you saw him? The sound of Vader’s breathing fills the temple, mechanical and hollow. How could that be Anakin? It couldn’t be. He wasn’t- he never felt like- 

Unbidden, the memory of the time that you and Anakin confronted who you thought was Obi-Wan’s murderer during the clone wars pushes to the forefront of your mind. You remember the hatred in Anakin’s voice, the violence in his actions as he saw Rako Hardeen, and you remember how you didn’t care because you wanted to do the same. 

You remember his presence in the Force then, how it was cold and angry and scared and _so much in pain_ ,

and so much like the presence you felt when you were on the _Ghost_. 

You come to from your thoughts a split second after not-Anakin has spoken. _How?_ You want to ask. _How could you do this? How could you_ _FALL_? Your thoughts are a mess inside your head and a sudden rage ignites inside your chest, filling the gaping hole of loss. With a wordless howl, you grab your saber and whirl on Vader to cut him down-

-and the Force pulls you from the vision as you face the empty air with a dead training bond in your mind. 

The saber tumbles from your grasp as your rage disappears as suddenly as it came, leaving you to face the merciless truth of your older brother’s fate.


	3. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up a lot longer than the previous two, but Artoo just wouldn't let me stop writing. 
> 
> SPOILER WARNING: MINOR SPOILERS FOR CLONE WARS S7E10 "The Phantom Apprentice". This chapter will reference a little dialogue and one small plot point. You have been warned.

A month after your vision, you rendez-vous with Mon Mothma on the Rebel base for a yearly intelligence meeting. Unlike the other standard meetings with Mon, this one was secreted away in a room unknown to all but a very select few. Other than Mon, the other two agents in the room are a short Rodian that goes by the name Kilum Ya’qur and a dark-haired human male named Cassian Andor. 

The meeting is long but not unfamiliar. By nightfall, your head is stuffed with updated transponder codes, cache locations, and leads to investigate. As you start to leave following the dismissal, Mon calls you back as Ya’qur and Andor leave the room.

You turn around, expecting a private word since you’re the leader of the Fulcrum agents, but Mon only gives you a gentle smile. “You’ve got a little someone waiting for you in your quarters,” she says, then waves you off. The corners of your mouth tic upwards and you head out the door.

As you make your way to your room, you cast your senses out, trying to figure out who awaits you. You frown - there’s no other life form - but you sense a new, dome-shaped lump in the Force, and your mouth falls open into a wide smile. The moment your door slides open, Artoo beeps in excitement and rolls over to bump your leg. “I’ve missed you too, Artooie,” you laugh, and his little metal body shakes in happiness. 

Even Artoo’s presence isn’t enough to keep your spirits up for long, and by the time dinner rolls around, he whistles in concern at your well-being. You turn to him with a weak smile on your face, intending to tell him that you’re just a little tired from your last mission, but what falls out of your mouth instead is, “Do you know what happened to Anakin?”

You slap your hand over your mouth, mortified. You turn to him, a half-formed apology on your lips, but it dies on your tongue and your hand drops to your side when Artoo tilts his body forward in sadness and gives a soft wail of confirmation. 

So he knew. 

_Why didn’t you tell me?_

The thought floats through your mind as a sudden anger blooms in your gut, hot and venomous, and you immediately release it into the Force. It’s not Artoo’s fault that Anakin turned. Of all the people that might have played a part in his Fall, Artoo was definitely _not_ one of them. 

_Would you have believed me?_ The droid beeps glumly, and you realize that you had spoken your traitorous thoughts out loud. Guilt surges through your body and you quickly snap out an apology. It feels inadequate, but Artoo whistles a quiet acceptance and bumps against your leg in forgiveness. You’re abruptly reminded of the first Alliance celebration you attended, fourteen years ago, when you and Artoo mourned over what you had both lost. 

“Do you- do you know why?” you whisper, hesitant. Artoo pauses, seeming to consider for a moment, then trills an uncertain response.

 _I don’t know,_ he says as he shakes his domed head. _Humans are kriffin’ complicated._ A corner of your mouth tics up. If anything, Artoo’s vulgarity certainly hasn’t changed. _But I can show you what I think makes some sense._ You nod expectantly, waiting for him to either continue talking or to show you a holo, but he whirs in uncertainty for a few moments. 

“Are you alright?” You ask in concern. 

_What do you know about Master Anakin and Mistress Padmé_? 

The question takes you off guard and you gape wordlessly at Artoo before sputtering a confused “What?” Quickly, you gather yourself. “I knew they had feelings for each other.”

Artoo blats a short raspberry. _More than that_ , he says, and he projects an image on the floor that takes your breath away. 

In the holo, Anakin and Padmé are locked in a kiss, forever frozen in a passionate embrace with their arms wrapped around one another. You realize that this must be before you met him - his hair is shorter than the first time you saw him and his mechanical hand is uncovered - but your eyes are drawn to Senator Amidala’s dress.

Even through the fizzling blue of a holo, you can recognize a wedding dress when you see one. 

Confusion laced with understanding races through your mind. You _knew_ Anakin (or you thought you did) - you knew he couldn’t let go of people. You knew he struggled with his anger and his attachment - but you didn’t know that he’d go this far. You didn’t know that he would break the Code. Then again, you didn’t know that he’d become a karking murderous Sith. 

The holo flickers and it changes into a more familiar Anakin, this time in the cockpit of his starfighter. His hair is longer this time, and while he’s not wearing any armor, you can see the gloves on his hands that indicate that this must be midway through the Clone Wars. He opens his mouth and a stinging loss shoots through you as you hear his real voice for the first time in fourteen years.

“Why didn’t Obi-Wan tell me?” growls holo-Anakin. “Why couldn’t he _trust_ me? I mourned for him!” 

Anakin’s face, snarling in anger, freezes in the luminous blue. _This was after that whole plot with the sleemo Hardeen_ , Artoo explains. You nod, your thoughts turning to the last time you spoke with Obi-Wan, and how he had asked you to speak with Anakin about the Council’s decision to give him an assignment to spy on the Chancellor. You knew he would’ve been unhappy, and you had nursed your own bitterness over the Council. 

(Obi-Wan had asked you to talk to Anakin, and you never did.

You should have.

Why didn’t you?)

You take a deep breath, gently taking hold of the guilt and loss building up in your chest, and you release it into the Force. Without his trust in Obi-Wan, and with you on Mandalore and Padmé dead, it’s no wonder Anakin turned to Palpatine. 

Unbidden, the memories of Mandalore rise to the front of your mind. _He has long been groomed for his role,_ Maul had said of Anakin. _As my master’s new apprentice._ You had denied his words then and claimed that those were lies. How wrong you were. Rage and hatred rises up inside you towards Palpatine, burning and destructive, tempting you with Darkness. Violently, you seize those emotions and release them into the Force. 

It only helps you somewhat. 

Artoo hesitates, then turns off his holoprojector. _I can’t show you this part_ , he beeps quietly. _But I can tell you what happened the last time I saw Master Anakin._

“Why can’t you show me?” You hiss. It comes out sharper than you intend, an edge leaking into your voice from your anger with Palpatine.

 _Because it hurts too karking much to remember, Miss Ahsoka,_ Artoo spits, offense colouring his beeps. 

Chastised, you bow your head in apology. “I’m sorry, Artoo,” you murmur. “I shouldn’t be letting my frustration out on you.”

Artoo blats another raspberry at you in indignation. _You kriffin’ shouldn’t_ , he beeps, then relents. _But I think I understand._ You give him a small smile of gratitude and he continues. _I deleted the recordings of the last day I saw Master Anakin,_ he admitted quietly. _Master Bail wiped Threepio’s memory and I didn’t want to remember if I couldn’t tell anyone._

Not for the first time, you wonder if Artoo is really just a droid after all. You find that you don’t care - Artoo wouldn’t be Artoo otherwise, and you are so, so glad that he’s still here.

 _What I do remember is that on the first Empire day, I arrived on Mustafar with Master Anakin, and I left without him._ A pang of sympathy shoots through you at Artoo’s sullen tone. _I left with Mistress Padmé_ _to find refuge in a different system,_ he continues. _And by the end of the day, I left that system with Master Bail - and without Mistress Padmé._

Part of you senses that Artoo is withholding something from you, but you’re not sure if you’re allowed to know. “Do you have any idea what happened on Mustafar?” You ask quietly.

Artoo hesitates, then shakes his head. _I told you I wiped some of my memory banks that day. But-_ he shivers, then continues. _There was someone else. I can’t tell you who, it’s been encrypted for their safety. It’s classified._

You nod. “I understand.”

_But I know that because of that somebody, Master Anakin became- he became-_

“Vader,” you mutter.

 _The black-suited thing_ , Artoo agrees forlornly. The two of you fall silent, with you releasing your emotions into the Force and with Artoo thinking who knows what. Eventually, he whistles quietly, fondness colouring his voice. _I’m glad that you’re still here, Miss Ahsoka._

“Me too, Artooie,” you laugh. You pat him on the head and he bumps you back. 

That little astromech has too much humanity in him to be just another droid.

\--

The next time you see Maul, he has gone mad. 

Admittedly, he was always a little mad, but the years have not been kind to him. The years have also done nothing to sharpen the edge of danger. You were stupid, naive. You should have known better. But you let your guard down, and now, Kanan’s sight has paid the price of your blindness.

As you defend Kanan, Maul is ranting, his voice deranged, his blows with his saber deadly yet unhinged. “Ezra will be mine!” he screams, and you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had joined him on Mandalore all those years ago. 

The atmosphere around you only contributes to the madness. The fog of the Dark Side lies heavy on Malachor, dulling your senses and making you feel sluggish. With every step you take, memories of a thousand years past that do not belong to you batter against your shields, desperate and dangerous. But even with the clouds on your Force Sense, you can hear the Force telling you that your battle is not here with Maul. This is Kanan's fight, not yours. Your fate lies elsewhere. 

(After today, your path will diverge from Kanan’s forever. 

You know this, and you accept it.

Such is the will of the Force.)

"Running away again, Lady Tano?” taunts Maul. His jibe does not even touch you - in your gut lies the absolute certainty that your fight with him is over. 

Behind him, you see Kanan stand, the mask of an ancient Temple guard over his face. “If you want to finish our fight, you’ll have to deal with him first,” you say, gesturing to Kanan. Maul turns, anger twisting his features and leaking into the Force. But you’re not concerned. You’re certain of the Force’s will this time. Kanan will survive this.

“Go get Ezra!” he shouts, and you nod, turning to race up the steps of the temple.

(The voices of the ancient Sith taunt you, quiet and persistent. 

_You will never talk to Caleb Dume again,_ they hiss. _You will meet your fate at the summit of our temple and you will see him engulfed by death as you wallow in despair._

You push them away with the words you have clung to since you left the order.

 _Emotion, yet peace._ )

Apprehension rises up inside you as a presence begins to break through the cloud of the Dark Side on Malachor. The muddied fog of Dark seems to quail under the appearance of a new contender - powerful and filled with such rage and hatred that it stands out from this place of desolation. Even though you know you’re not far away, you can barely sense the spark of Light that is Ezra’s presence when compared to the colossus of Darkness that waits above you. 

You know who it is. 

Your race upwards takes less than a minute yet feels like an eternity. By the time you arrive, your stomach is queasy and your mind is racing. In front of you, you can sense Ezra’s terror as he raises his arm in a futile attempt to protect himself from a final blow. You hear a mechanical voice - hollow, cold, and with a touch of amusement at Ezra’s fear. “Perhaps I was wrong,” says Vader, and he raises his blade. 

You’re too far away to intercept the blow. By the time you would have reached them, Ezra would be dead. If you threw your saber, it would have taken too long, and Ezra would be dead. 

The Force stills. Your emotions calm and your body relaxes, releasing tension that has been plaguing you for years. The Force’s will is clear. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” you declare, and your voice stops Vader’s blade as surely as a saber parry.

Vader turns and faces you. His mask is as terrifying as you thought it was the first time you saw it on a holo - skull-like and emotionless. For a moment, he stares at you, and you realize you can’t read him. His mask makes him inscrutable and his mental shields are too strong. You dip your head, glaring at the Dark monolith in the Force. 

_I know you know me,_ you send through your training bond. 

There’s no response. It’s silent. 

As silent as it was on the first Empire Day. 

Vader finally speaks, acknowledging you, but your training bond lies still. “It was foretold that you would be here,” he says. “Our long-awaited meeting has come at last.”

Force, he sounds _nothing_ like Anakin. You don’t know what you expected - maybe that there would be some hint of your former master when he spoke to you - but his words and his voice are all different and _wrong._ They’re too stiff, too cold, too condescending.

You decide on neutrality in your answer. “I’m glad I gave you something to look forward to,” you answer. You remember the arrogance of Dooku and the madness of Maul, and most of all, the dangers you were taught of the Sith, but you can’t help the small spark of hope that ignites in your chest. 

You didn’t know those Sith before they turned, but you were Anakin’s padawan. 

(His younger sister.)

Maybe you can bring him back.

“We need not be adversaries.” The foolish hope blooms in your chest at Vader’s words. Perhaps he cares. Perhaps- “The Emperor will show you mercy if you tell me where the remaining Jedi can be found.”

Anger overrides any sentimentality as you understand that he is trying to use you.“There are no Jedi,” you snap. “You and your inquisitors have seen to that!”

Vader is unmoved by your sudden anger, his mind already turning to ways he could use the situation for his benefit alone. “Perhaps this child will confess what you will not,” he muses, and your anger grows as Ezra cowers under Vader’s gaze. You remember the first time you had been debriefed on Vader, and how Bail had told you that the younglings in the temple had been slaughtered by a Sith, and you really, truly come to the realization that this creature in front of you has no qualms killing the terrified fifteen-year-old at his feet. 

How could this be Anakin? 

Disbelief lances through your gut and you reach the only conclusion you can. “I was beginning to believe I knew who you were, behind that mask.” Vader tilts his head, intrigued, and you fling out your next words. “But it’s impossible. My master could _never_ be as vile as you.”

(It’s easier to deny the truth. It hurts less.)

Vader’s retort is quick. “Anakin Skywalker was weak,” he growls. “I destroyed him.”

Unexpected pain shoots through your mind and the ever-present hole in your chest feels like it’s in flames at his words. Loss, fueled by the Dark howling around you, breaks your control, and you feel your face crumple in brief agony. During one brief moment, your world is a swirling chaos of guilt, loss, anger, and a terrible, terrible grief that weighs on your shoulders and claws at your throat.

You fall back onto your training. The Force around you is strong, and you draw on it, gaining control over your emotions. Anger ignites again in your chest and sharpens your focus as you draw on the Force tainted by the Dark Side, but you reign it in firmly, guiding it with a strength that comes from the Light. You cannot fight Vader with the Light or Dark alone, but with the grey of balance, you may have a chance. 

If you fight with the weight of Anakin’s destruction on your mind, you will lose. If you fight with vengeance - because there cannot be justice done for this monstrosity, only vengeance enacted - you have a chance. The creature in front of you wears Anakin’s body and uses his darkened presence, but he is not Anakin. Your old master is dead. 

_Ignorance, yet knowledge._

Anakin is gone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do one last thing for him. You raise your eyes, your gaze boring into Vader’s mask. “Then I will avenge his death,” you snarl. 

“Revenge is not the Jedi way.” His verbal riposte is quick, meant to drive another spike into your mind. All it does is remind you that this monster is not Anakin. 

You grasp your lightsabers, opening yourself to the Force. “I’m no Jedi,” you retort, anger alight in your voice, and you ignite your sabers. The white of the blade grounds you, giving you more control, and you rush at Vader as he holds his blade in a ready-stance that’s all too familiar. 

In the first few seconds of your duel, Vader seems to hold back, giving ground, his blade whirling in an impenetrable defense. Your offense is swift, fast enough that a non-Force sensitive would not be able to follow your movements, but Vader matches your attacks with ease. You lash out with the Force, throwing him backward, and leap at him in a deadly blow that he blocks with one hand. Then the tide turns. 

Vader’s attacks are firm and unrelenting, direct and without the acrobatics that accompanies your style, yet his movements are so fluid and fast that you can only _just_ keep up. Each blow shakes your arms, one strike after another, and if it were not for the Force, your defense would have buckled long ago. You find small consolation in the fact that you know how he fights as you’ve sparred with him before, but that’s a cold comfort. You know the foundation of Vader’s fighting abilities, but he was the one that trained yours, and while you may outmatch many other Jedi, he knows your weaknesses more intimately than anyone else. 

Your duel takes you to the perimeter of the temple. You’re giving too much ground, each step you take backward quickly swallowed up by the advancing colossus of Dark that beats at you relentlessly. In comparison to this, Maul was slow, Grievous was sloppy, and Ventress’s blows were feeble, all of them far eclipsed by the strength of Darth Vader as he tries to destroy you. Fear begins to creep into your mind, its fingers worming their way through your emotions, destroying the tight reigns you had on the balanced grey you held onto for battle. Your mind is already exhausted from being batted by the Dark Side on this planet, and now, clouds begin to settle in, slowing your movements and dulling your mind. 

Every time you meet his saber, you redirect the energy of his strikes into a fluid twirl that you turn back onto him, but you can tell that you’re waning. Your ripostes are slowly becoming wider and wider - you know it’s only a matter of time before a fatal opening reveals itself in your defense. 

But you need to see this through. You hold tightly to your memories of Anakin and Obi-Wan, of the younglings you had protected during the Clone Wars, of the people of Mandalore you fought for. Vengeance must be delivered for them but you cannot lose control. 

_Passion, yet serenity._

You don’t have many cards left to play. You catch him in a blade lock, your teeth bared in a snarl as you strain with the effort to push him back, and your mind searches for options. Too quickly, Vader releases the lock and slams his blade down on you, throwing you backwards, leaving you wide open for a fatal blow. Desperately, you reach out, this time not with your sabers but with your mind, and you scream a word through the dead training bond that you’re sure will buy you a second. It’s all you need - one second, and one precise strike. 

_("Master!")_

You don’t get what you hope for. Vader lashes out with the Force, knocking your breath from your lungs and throwing you off the ledge. For a few seconds, you flail uselessly in the air, panic threatening to swallow you, but you rein in your terror and turn your focus inwards. You grasp your fear, your grief, your anger, your fondness for Anakin and Obi-Wan and your friends in the Temple long gone, and you use them to sharpen your resolve as you release yourself to the Force.

_Chaos, yet harmony._

You hit the ground and roll over, using the Force to cushion your fall, and you’re immediately running for the Temple again. Your muscles are burning, your arms shaking with exertion, but you can’t stop now. Above you, the small flames of Kanan and Ezra’s Light are tainted by fear as the shadow of Vader approaches them. “Come on, come on!” you mutter breathlessly, racing up the steps of the Temple. 

You reach the top at a dead sprint, racing for Vader as he stands with his arm outstretched towards Ezra and Kanan. For an incredulous moment, you wonder if he is letting you approach, but you realize that he is too focused on the sith holocron to sense your presence. By the time you’re close enough to be heard, your steps thundering against the floor, he turns nearly too late. 

You prepare yourself to kill. You scream, your sabers flashing, one throwing his parry wide and the other whistling through the air to decapitate him. At the very last second, Vader jerks his head backwards, and you feel your saber cut through metal alone before you both tumble to the ground. 

The floor of the temple comes to you too quickly and you collapse for a moment, winded, your whole body trembling and your mental shields waning from the Dark in this Temple. Ezra shouts something to you - something about hurrying? - and you push yourself to your knees. You knew when you arrived that you wouldn’t be leaving with them. You know now that if they want a chance to escape, you need to hold Vader back. You know that-

The bond that was closed off snaps alight, burning and _alive_ , and so, so familiar, making your spine go rigid in shock before you whirl around. 

“ _Ahsoka._ ”

You should be raising your sabers, striking him down as he’s dazed. You should be putting your blade through his heart. You should be-

You could be at his side and bring him back. 

You could see Anakin again. 

“Ahsoka.”

You can hear his voice - his _real_ voice - through the open bond. 

He turns his head and you can’t bring yourself to look away. Under the mask, a face deformed by scars and marred with a sickly golden eye that should be blue stares back into yours. Through the Force, your bond is truly alive for the first time - on his end, you sense _confusionragepainfear_ and you reach out to him. “Anakin,” you breathe, and for a foolish, hopeful moment, you’re convinced that it’s him. 

But you know enough to be sure that he’s still in the grasp of the dark. 

Last time, you had left the order, left _him_ , and he had Fallen. Maybe this time, with you here, you could save him- maybe if you talk to him, as you should have when you were on Mandalore, he can come back-

“I won’t leave you!” You declare, and you wonder if this is what the Force meant when it told you that you were to stay behind on Malachor with him. Doubt surfaces inside you - why would he believe you if you had done it before? - and you add, “Not this time.”

Anakin pushes himself to his feet, gazing at you in a daze of emotions. The rumbling of the Temple disappears along with Ezra and Kanan’s presences, and it’s just you and your older brother. The Force stills, apprehensive, and you sense Anakin’s emotions begin to focus. Anger begins to rise in him, then hatred, directed at you in an increasingly overwhelming wave, and your stomach plummets. The training bond heaves, then snaps as it is destroyed, and your hope disappears along with it. 

Vader’s eyes narrow as he glares at you and the world returns to your awareness, the Force starting to writhe in Darkness once more. He raises the hilt of his lightsaber and delivers his words with the cold, merciless certainty of an angel of death. “Then you will _die_ ,” he growls, and ignites his weapon. 

You realize that you’re not afraid now. You entered the Temple knowing you would not leave with Ezra and Kanan. You stare up at Darth Vader as he advances, and you call to mind the final tenet of the old Jedi code.

_Death, yet the Force._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (SPOILERS FOR THE FINAL SEASON OF REBELS BELOW!)
> 
> I've always wondered why no one told Ahsoka that Obi-Wan was still alive. Presumably, it's to keep them both safe - the two of them together would be too tempting for Darth Vader. Add in little Luke Skywalker to that mix and... well, that's a jackpot for Palpatine, too. 
> 
> Poor Artoo. He watched his closest friend get memory-wiped (and basically die), watched the two humans he was super close either die or fall to a fate worse than death, then watched their grandson commit another massacre while their son watched. Poor guy deserves a break.
> 
> For this chapter, while we know that Ahsoka survives, she doesn't know this - she only knows that this will be the last time she interacts with Kanan (can you believe that?).
> 
> I've also wondered - both Vader and Ahsoka have a chance to strike a fatal blow before the Temple closes, but they don't. This is my version - here, Ahsoka stares Vader by calling out through the bond, and he responds by force-pushing her off a ledge rather than bisecting her as he's startled by her call. 
> 
> All in all, Palpatine sucks and Ahsoka and Anakin and Obi-Wan deserved better.
> 
> I've decided to put off the final chapter until after the final episode of TCW comes out so that I'll have a better picture of how to write it. Till then, may the Force be with you.


	4. Netherworld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew, what a journey! Hope you all enjoy. This is all unbeta'd. 
> 
> WARNING: SPOILERS FOR:  
> \- Finale of The Clone Wars  
> \- Finale of Rebels
> 
> You have been warned.

The implications of the World between Worlds does not hit you until you leave Malachor. 

As the planet disappears behind you in the swirling blue of hyperspace, the heavy fog of the Dark Side seems to lift from your shoulders until you’re able to breathe again. While there is Darkness sitting in the stolen inquisitor’s ship, it is nothing compared to the immersion you felt in the Sith Temple, leaving you free to sink into a healing trance to give your screaming muscles a chance to rest. 

Leaving you free to sink into the Force and not think about how Anakin- how Vader had no qualms about killing you. 

Hours later, you emerge from hyperspace into the edge of Hutt space. After having lived on the run for years, it’s not difficult to find a place to hide out in. The Navicomputer names the planet you’re on as Ques - out-of-the-way, swampy, and devoid of sentient life other than a few scavengers here and there, with no significant pool of resources that would interest the Empire - perfect for disappearing.

You step out of the ship and make it two steps before you collapse to your knees and start retching. The healing trance may have healed your muscles, but it has done nothing for your mind. Guilt pushes down on your shoulders, weighing you down along with the horrible knowledge that Anakin was gone to a place of no return - a place worse than death. Alongside this lies the knowledge that Kanan will die two years from now, leaving Ezra with a broken bond and Hera a broken heart, and the fact that you _cannot_ interfere - the fact that the moment you considered warning him, the Force screamed its disapproval, allowing you to sense how much worse the unseen repercussions could be - weighs heavily on your mind. You want so desperately to return to the rebellion _right now_ , to your friends, to Rex and to the Larte sisters and to the Phoenix squadron, but the fact that Ezra had told you that you were presumed dead for two years means that you cannot return anytime soon lest you damage a fragile timeline.

Underneath your battered shields, the frayed remains of the training bond lie still, finally disconnected. It is one thing to have one end disappear with the death of the other, to have it fade into coldness over time as the bond lies forever still. It is another thing to have it violently ripped apart by hatred, to have uneven, frayed edges of loss attached to your mind. 

_Anakin._

(You wish he had died during the Purges. 

That would have been less painful.)

To know that it is possible to go back, to save _so many_ , to change the past, gives you a futile hope in your stomach that never ignites. The Force’s will is clear - the World Between Worlds closed when you left it with Ezra, and like Mortis, it will never open again. 

It’s at times like this you resent the Force. 

\--

When you contact the rebellion for the first time in three years, the voice that speaks to you is not as surprised as you thought it would be. 

“Ezra informed us that you’d survived, but that you likely had to stay out of the way until now,” says the warm voice of Bail Organa. You’re reminded of why you liked him, and why Obi-Wan was close friends with the Viceroy of Alderaan. His trust in the Force, combined with his selflessness and unending bravery, made him a staunch ally and a good friend. “I’m transmitting you the coordinates to rendezvous.”

Bail meets you on the landing pad at Yavin IV alongside Mon Mothma, whose cool facade cracks long enough to give you a smile, and it’s business from there. Your time away from the Rebellion was not wasted - rather, recruitment has continued with your help, and just two days ago, you were contacted by Saw Gerrera, who insisted on meeting in person to give the Rebellion intel. “I might think that the Rebellion is too soft to be useful,” he had snapped, tension in his voice, “but I don’t have the men needed to move against this.” 

You follow Mon through a series of long, winding passageways as you make your way to the Fulcrum debrief. “Ya’qur was killed on a mission last year,” she tells you quietly, and you bow your head. 

The meeting goes long into the night, and by the time it is done, the sun has begun to rise again. Andor makes to leave the room, he alone entrusted to meet one of Saw’s informants at the Ring of Kafrene, but at the last moment, he turns and snaps a quick salute. “It’s good to have you back, Agent Tano.” At your smile, he gives a small one in return, jerks his head in a stiff nod, and walks out the door with a nod to Mon. 

The next day, you make it to the mess hall three hours after most people have dispersed. The few people there sit alone, pouring over datapads, and your afternoon is uneventful until you make your way back to your room and a voice startles you from your thoughts.

“...Ahsoka?”

Your shoulders stiffen. You feel rooted to the spot, a sudden joy blooming in you so strongly that it claws at your throat and stops your voice. 

The world tilts, spinning around you, and suddenly you’re no longer looking down the hallway but back at a face that’s staring at you with loss and desperation and _joylovehope_ and-

“Rex,” you whisper, and he chokes back a sob as you both catch each other in a long-overdue hug. Force-dammit, you can feel his tears soaking the back of your shirt, but you can’t really fault him from it because you can barely _see_ through the moisture in your eyes. You hold your arms tightly around him, emotion stopping your voice and making your chest swell. _Friend,_ your mind gasps. _Brother, brother, Rex. Rex. Rex._

“I didn’t know if you were ever going to come back,” he croaks. “Ezra said you survived but that you couldn’t return because of the Force, but I thought-”

“I know. I know.” Your voice cracks and you squeeze him tighter. “I’m sorry, Rex.” 

Later, you both make your way to his quarters, where he digs out a box and holds it out. “I kept your stuff when we moved bases,” he says, emotion dancing behind his eyes. “Just in case you- you survived.” 

A smile shines on your face at his words. “Thank you.” 

Your box of belongings is small. As a Jedi Padawan, you owned very little in terms of material possession, and you never changed that lifestyle after leaving the Order. A feeling of déjà vu rushes over you as you make to open the box in Rex’s hands. The lid comes off easily, leaving you to stare at the one thing sitting atop your other possessions as your face twists briefly with emotion. Your hand reaches out, grabbing the object and holding it as if it were made of glass.

You’ve had three years to come to terms with your encounter with Vader. You’ve had eighteen to deal with the death of Anakin Skywalker. Even so, the silka beads, cracked with age and worn from the times you picked it up in a ritual remembrance of the past, take you unexpectedly to the last time you saw them in Anakin’s hands. 

_I’m sorry, Master._

_But I’m not coming back._

Rex, bless him, so blissfully ignorant of the source of your distress, notices your slip and frowns. “Ahsoka, what’s wrong?”

You’ve thought about this since you found out the truth. Rex doesn’t know - he has no idea what became of his General. In the year leading up to Malachor, you pushed it away, denied it, because _how_ could Anakin become something as vile as Vader? Rex couldn’t know. You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t do that to the memory of Anakin, of the selfless Jedi he was, of the steadfast friend who always had their backs. 

Then on Malachor, he had raised his weapon, and proclaimed that you would die. 

Rex is a soldier. It is not impossible that one day, he will face Vader on the field of battle. Rex deserves to know, if only to understand _who_ he is against. 

You open your mouth and your voice comes out with a calmness that nearly takes you off guard. “Are you busy today?”

His eyebrows pull together in what he sees as a blatant evasion of his question, but he answers nonetheless. “Not really. Only a couple of reports that I just need to touch over before a debrief tomorrow.” He peers in more closely at your face. “Commander, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t have anything either,” you respond. Gently, you take the box, giving him a small smile of gratitude before it fades with the knowledge of how you will shatter his memories of Anakin. “I need to talk to you, Rex, and I think it’s best if we have the rest of the day to talk.” 

He stares at you for a moment, his concern leaking into the Force around him, before he jerks his head towards the small dining table in his quarters. “Come on,” he mutters, and you both sit on the chairs in silence as you gather your thoughts. 

The air feels sticky and humid on Yavin IV and you shiver, preparing yourself for what is to come, before clenching your hands into fists and staring Rex in the eye. “What did Ezra tell you about Malachor?”

Another life disappeared. You saw the news during one of your missions, broadcast across the holonet in large letters: _IN HONOUR OF GRAND ADMIRAL THRAWN._ The newscaster had detailed his sacrifice, naming him a heroic figure who took with him the dangerous Jedi Ezra Bridger as they disappeared with the purrgil. 

Rex’s eyes flicker briefly at the mention of the lost padawan, but he doesn’t lose focus at your question. “He said you fought Vader.” His eyes darken, and his voice hardens. “He said that you seemed to think you knew who he was. He also said that-” Rex’s voice hitches briefly, barely enough for you to notice, but you do. “-that he killed Anakin.” His eyes flicker downwards, looking at the beads you have clutched in your hands, before he meets your eyes again. “He said he thought you stayed to avenge our General’s death.” 

Your hands tighten on the beads as he confirms what you’ve been thinking. 

_Rex doesn’t know._

“Ezra was… wrong. He heard the words correctly, but he didn’t know the weight behind them.” At your words, Rex’s expression doesn’t change. He’s too much of a soldier to allow all of his emotions to be displayed openly. “Vader said that he _destroyed Anakin Skywalker._ And-” Your hands tighten again on the beads and you feel the wood pressing against your skin. “-and he wasn’t lying, from a certain point of view.”

“From a certain point of view,” Rex echoes hollowly. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“There was a time on the _Ghost_ where I was weakened after I reached out to Vader.” The words are coming out in a rush. You’ve told no one about this and you’ve kept it buried inside for years. Now, it’s spilling out without an end in sight. “I didn’t trust my senses after. I couldn’t understand, and since the Dark Side was so strong, I thought it must’ve been playing tricks on me. How could _that_ be someone I knew?”

“Kid-”

Distantly, a part of you scoffs with a fondness. You haven’t been a kid since the clone wars, but Rex never stopped calling you one. Your mouth keeps running. “-and I didn’t tell you, Rex, because I thought it wasn’t true. But on Malachor, when I struck him, I- it was all wrong, and I thought it’d be easier to pretend he really was Anakin’s murderer, but- Rex, _he spoke my name-_ ”

“Ahsoka!” Rex’s voice is sharp, cutting into your rant. His eyes are wide and a little terrified - not terrified of you, but terrified _for_ you. Dimly, you realize that this is the first time he’s ever seen you lose control. You mumble a quiet apology, taking a breath as you release your distress into the Force. “Ahsoka,” he says again, and you notice that his jaw is clenched and that he’s turning pale. “ _What are you trying to tell me?_ ”

In a burst of strength fueled by the Force responding to your anguish, the silka beads crack and split open in your hands. 

Your voice sounds like cold steel. 

“Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. He’s alive, Rex, and he’s the face of the Empire.” 

A beat. 

Another beat, and Rex has not moved at all. 

You can’t sense anything from him in the Force, only the same tension you’ve been feeling since you reacted to your silka beads. The only indication that he has heard anything from you is his face, rapidly paling, as he tries to understand what you’ve said.

Then- 

The Force around him explodes in a chaotic tumult of emotion, denial screaming with betrayal, despair crying out with rage. 

You don’t twitch. After two decades of war, you’ve been numbed to reactions like this. You’ve felt it a few thousand times too many. It’s another casualty of war, you suppose. 

Oblivious to the sudden pandemonium he suddenly released to any Force-sensitives, Rex manages a strained “Oh” before his face twists with grief. You don’t say anything as he wrestles with his emotions, his denial warring strongly against the rest of his emotions, before hurt wins out and he slumps in his chair, his gaze falling to the floor. 

Well, he’s certainly dealing with it better than you did. He’s still conscious. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, Rex’s emotions howling in the Force.

You wish you hadn’t told him.

You wish it wasn’t necessary. 

“Back in the Clone Wars,” he says, so suddenly and softly that you struggle to hear him, “After you left, but before the Siege of Mandalore, we fought a battle over Anaxes against Trench.”

You don’t know what you expected him to say, but this was certainly unexpected. 

But if it helps him to cope…

At your nod, he continues. “We were losing because the Separatists were using a new ‘algorithm’. What we found out later was that the ‘algorithm’ was our brother.” His eyes look up from the floor and lock onto yours, and you feel a chill run down your back. “They were holding Echo. They- they took his mind. Made him work for them. But I recognized his tactics and we extracted him from the Seppies with the help of- of General Skywalker.” 

If Rex stumbled over Anakin’s name, none of you mention it. 

“When I joined the Alliance, I thought I recognized some of the tactics the Empire used.” At his words, you start to shiver as you understand what he is saying. “I thought it was because my men - my brothers - were forced to serve the Empire. But I don’t know why I didn’t see it- I don’t know why-”

“-why you didn’t recognize Anakin’s tactics,” you finish softly.

Rex sighs, an air of defeat hanging around him like an oppressive fog. “Yeah.” 

Silence falls between the two of you again. Rex’s hands are balled into fists, his jaw muscles twitching as he tries to process the awful truth he’s just been given. Your hands are stiff, clenched tightly around the broken silka beads, and you force yourself to open your fist. The beads are crushed - your last link to the Jedi, destroyed by your own inability to control your emotions - yet you can’t feel anything when you look at them. There’s no sadness, no despair. Only an overwhelming numbness that you can’t release into the Force. 

“Ahsoka.” At the sound of your name, you look back into Rex’s eyes. It’s hard to remember that he’s actually biologically younger than you, but at times like this, you look into his eyes and see a soldier when you think you should be seeing someone younger and on his way to a university. When he speaks again, his voice is the sound of someone years older than you when he shouldn’t be. “How did you deal with it? He was my general, but… he was your teacher.”

“I didn’t,” you admit. “I denied it until I faced him on Malachor. I almost killed him.” Rex’s eyes tighten at your admission. “And you know what he did after I almost cut his head off? _He called me by my name, Rex._ I heard his voice say my name for the first time in fourteen years through our bond.” A laugh bursts out of your lips. You’ve meditated on this, released your emotions into the Force, but it’s another thing entirely to tell somebody else, and to have that someone else _understand._ “And I turned around and told him that I’d stay with him because I thought I had gotten through to him!” 

The hysterical desperation seems to be getting to Rex. “Honestly, Commander, I don’t know what I would’ve done,” he says, and his sympathy for you blooms into the Force. 

“Maybe.” Your eyes drop to your silka beads again. “I thought that if I showed him that he wasn’t alone, he might come back- Rex, he was in so much _pain_ -” Abruptly, you cut off, carefully gathering your anxiousness and releasing it into the Force. You’ve been slipping since Malachor, and you can’t afford it. Not now. You take a deep breath and center yourself, then you speak with a calmness you don’t really feel. “I told him that I would stay for him. Vader responded to me by saying, _then you will die._ ”

There’s so much sorrow in the Force surrounding you and Rex that it nearly takes you back to the day of Order 66. You were too numb for tears then, staring upon the graves of the half of the 501st that had died when the ship went down, feeling so strongly all the absences in the Force that used to be hundreds of flickering lights. Rex hadn’t shed a tear when he buried Jesse, either. It was like he had retreated inside himself during the burial, going through the motions without understanding what he was doing, and it wasn’t until the two of you had entered hyperspace when you finally sensed his breakdown. 

He sheds no tears now, looking too at the fractured silka beads at your hands with the same silent numbness of eighteen years ago. The riotous surge of emotions that had exploded earlier is gone, left only with an empty sadness that makes your shoulders feel heavy. 

The same thought that has plagued you since Malachor surfaces again. 

_What if I could have prevented the rise of Vader by just staying with Anakin?_

It’s a dangerous line of thought, taking blame for things that are beyond your control, but you’ve never gotten the answer to your guilt. 

_What if I could have stopped the Empire from rising if I had just talked to Anakin?_

\--

A month later, events start to tumble and fall into a speed and urgency you haven’t truly felt since the Clone Wars. Andor makes it back from the Ring of Kafrene, and you find out a week later that he’s returned with four other allies from the city of Jedha that was supposedly destroyed by a mining accident. But you know better. The Alliance knows better. 

You’re away on another recruitment mission on Felucia when you hear the news about the existence of the Death Star. Sabine, the only other agent on the mission with you, vomits when she hears the news, and you drop to your knees. A planet-killer. You look up from the flora-filled planet, and you think about how if the Death Star were to appear right now in the sky above you, there would be nothing stopping it from claiming you and Sabine and the billions of other people living on this planet. 

_A planet-killer_. 

It could take in one second the same number of lives the Clone Wars took in a year. 

You ask the Force why it has allowed this, and what you could do.

It’s silent. 

Three days later, Sabine has to drag you out of blasterfire and onto a ship as the two of you narrowly escape a squad of stormtroopers. “What happened out there?” she snaps at you. “You just dropped on the ramp. You nearly got yourself killed!”

You can’t bring yourself to get defensive - you know that she’s masking her terror and concern for you with anger. But none of this matters now. There’s a sudden wound in the Force, howling and writhing in agony, the result of a billion voices crying out and suddenly stopping at the same time. You can _feel_ the wound in the Force somewhere out in the galaxy, caused by the sudden extinguishing of billions of sparks of lives from the youngest infant to the eldest grandparent, and you know with certainty that the Death Star has had its first true test. 

The look on your face must tell Sabine what you know because her face pales rapidly, turning ghost-white, and she slams her hands on the comm controls. “Spectre 5 to Home, please come in. Has the Death Star destroyed a planet?” She’s being reckless - even over a channel that’s thrice-encrypted, mentioning the words _Death Star_ poses a risk - but she’s too wound up to care, and frankly, you are too. 

The comm crackles and both of you lean over it in anticipation. “That’s a positive, Spectre 5.” 

Your stomach sinks, but you need to know. “Fulcrum to home. Which planet?” Beside you, Sabine falls backward onto her chair, her eyes wide. 

There’s no answer. You snap at the comm again. “Fulcrum to home! Which. Planet?”

Silence answers you for two seconds before the comm crackles again. “This is Cer-six-three-five-one to all operatives.” Your eyes narrow at the name. The voice on the other end is distorted, but you’re certain the one speaking is Mon Mothma. She’s taking an unprecedented risk, sending out a transmission to so many, but this is a new situation. “The Death Star has fired on Alderaan. Avoid all travel to that sector.” 

Alderaan. 

Alderaan, with its high mountains and rolling green hills, with its flowing waterfalls and still lakes and the thousands of flowers that blossomed all year long. 

Alderaan, with its thousands of years of art and architecture and museums, so full of history that you couldn’t hope to see it all in the two times you’ve been there. 

Alderaan, which harbored no weapons and was a peaceful nation. 

Alderaan, home of Bail Organa, the gentle Viceroy and husband and father and leader who had always listened to his people and had done all he could to ease their suffering. Home to Breha Organa, who ruled with a kind heart as strong as iron, who had brought you to one of the Alderaanian festivals two years after the rise of the Empire and who had promised you a chance to see the festivals without the oppressive hand of Palpatine after the war was over. Alderaan, where you had sent Kaeden and Miara and so many others because it was supposed to be safe. 

“Alderaan,” Sabine whispers, and you both sit in silence as you try to understand what the galaxy has just lost. In a sudden movement, she turns around and hurls her helmet to the floor, the Force around her bleeding with anger and helplessness. You say nothing. Instead, you busy yourself with entering the coordinates and jumping to hyperspace to return to home base. 

The two of you sit in silence for hours, brooding over the loss felt by the galaxy and fuming at the cruelty of the Empire. You spend the first couple of hours meditating, searching for answers in the Force. All you get in return is a strange foreboding feeling, but you chalk it up to the knowledge of the destruction of Alderaan. It isn’t until four hours after the ship has entered hyperspace that Sabine speaks up. 

“What did it feel like?”

Her voice, more helpless than you’ve ever heard, startles you out of your thoughts. She’s not looking at you, fiddling instead with her blaster as she tries to take her mind off of reality. 

You take a breath, carefully releasing your emotions into the Force. “It felt as though a billion voices cried out in pain at the same time, then stopped just as suddenly.” The ominous anxiety you feel in your gut starts to burn again, but you release it back into the Force. Of course talking about the sudden loss of life will cause you to feel those emotions. “It was like an unrelenting wave of pain that had suddenly surged through the galaxy.” 

Sabine’s hand tightens on her blaster. “We’ll make them _pay_ ,” she snarls, and you find yourself agreeing with her. 

You sit in silence for a few moments before she speaks again. “Is it safe for us to return to home base right now?”

Your head tilts in consideration at her question. You can’t fault her for being overly cautious when no planet is safe. Falling into a quick meditation, you cast out your senses, searching for any warnings as your ship flies through hyperspace. There’s the same foreboding feeling you felt earlier, along with something else. You prod at this something, whatever it is, and hope flickers in you when you realize that it’s part of the Light. The Light Side is growing, little by little, familiar and warm and a smile breaks out on your face when you open your eyes to see Sabine watching you intently. “It’s safe,” you say warmly. “I’m even getting a good feeli-”

You feel like the ground has suddenly opened up beneath you, dropping you, tumbling in space. 

“Ahsoka?” Sabine asks. You don’t hear her. 

The Light Side is growing, suddenly even stronger, and you realize why it’s familiar. It’s Obi-Wan’s presence. “He’s alive,” you manage, but it does nothing to answer Sabine’s questions. You sense Obi-Wan for the first time in eighteen years, and a hope blasts through you, warming you from the top of your montrals to the tips of your toes, and your hands are suddenly roaming over the controls. If you can sense him, it must mean that he’s nearby. His presence is growing, more and more, stronger and stronger. You need to go find him before you lose his trail. _Obi-Wan,_ your mind screams, ignoring Sabine’s questions. _Please, please, let me find you, Obi-Wan, brother, father, father, family-_

And just as suddenly as you sensed him, his presence suddenly dissipates, entering the netherworld of the Force, and you know with certainty that just as you learned that he lived, Obi-Wan Kenobi had died, leaving behind a galaxy that feels emptier by the minute. 

Loneliness, heavy and pervasive (and possibly, not entirely your own, but also someone else’s), suddenly hits you like a heavy blow and your hands drop from the controls as you slump back on your chair. Sabine shouts in surprise, running from her spot on the floor to shake your shoulders. “Ahsoka, what’s wrong?” she demands “Answer me!” 

You release your emotions into the Force. Now is not the time for mourning. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, and she stumbles back in relief. “I just felt the death of another Jedi that I thought was nearby.” 

Grief crosses briefly over her features and you realize that your words had brought back her memories of Kanan’s death. Sabine’s voice shakes when she answers you. “ _Skira’ahaat,_ ” she vows in Mando’a. _We will have vengeance._ “For the Jedi. For Kanan and Ezra. For Alderaan.”

You dip your head in acknowledgement, sealing her promise with your own vow. “For the galaxy.”

\--

Three more years pass. You learn of Andor’s death as he, along with dozens of others, sacrifice their lives to get the plans to the planet-killer. You reunite with Kaeden, Miara, and the few other Alderaanian refugees that survived. The Death Star is destroyed. A second one is built over the moon of Endor. Hutt space has fallen into civil war with the death of Jabba the Hutt at the hands of Princess Leia Organa. 

You were with Rex when you found out the name of the boy who had fired the shot that blew up the Death Star. He was nineteen, young, and a shining untrained beacon in the Force, but you and Rex had been rooted to the spot when his name was announced.

Luke Skywalker. 

Anakin had had a _child._

It wasn’t hard to figure out who the mother was. Back in the Clone Wars, Anakin was not exactly subtle every time he hung around Padmé, and you had thought that he would leave the Order after the war was over. 

You didn’t get a chance to talk with Luke, and neither did Rex. The Alliance was in a frantic rush the three days after the destruction of the Death Star, and while Luke and most of home base had disappeared to a different planet, you and Rex and many other field agents got dispatched to outposts and to recruitment missions that went on for far longer than you expected. 

During the battle of Endor, you’re fighting a different battle elsewhere in the Outer Rim against a particularly insufferable Moff who seems to have decided that the sickness happening on his planet and killing the citizens under his charge means nothing compared to the profits that he’s losing. You find his base on one of the three moons on the planet, taking five days to even find a place to land undetected after getting through the tough security surrounding his base. It takes another two to secure the base and to take out all security until all that is left is the Moff and the few officers who don’t even know how to wield their own fists. 

The Moff is a coward. You hold your lightsaber to his throat and he sputters about how he knew nothing about the sickness while one of the other rebel agents screams at him for what he has done to her and her family living on the planet below. “Liar!” she roars, and you have to pin her arms down with the Force to prevent her from riddling his body with blaster holes. 

Having nothing else to save him, the Moff falls back to threats of the Empire. “The Emperor will have your head, Jedi! Your rebellion will be crushed! He’ll-”

Anything he says is drowned out. The Force shifts, the dark fog that has sat there since you were a padawan lifting, and a sudden bright Light floods your senses. A sudden joy sweeps through you and you bare your teeth in a smile that has the Moff cutting off his rant in fear at your sudden change in expression. 

“What is it?” Another rebel asks you, hope on his face. “What did you feel?”

“Emperor Palpatine is dead,” you answer with glee, and the Force sends you its pleasure as you speak the truth. 

_Palpatine is dead._

At last. 

The rebels whoop, trusting your senses and shouting with joy, their pleasure radiating as strongly as the Moff’s fear and disbelief. The woman who had nearly shot the Moff holsters her blaster and slaps a pair of stun cuffs on his wrists, and the group of rebels, with you tailing at their end, spreads the news quickly through the comm channels. 

There’s still darkness lurking in the Force from Vader’s presence, but you can’t bring yourself to care. _Palpatine is dead._ The rebellion has struck a huge blow, and for the first time, you truly believe that the war will be over soon.

There’s no time to be lost, however. The Emperor is dead, but the virus on the planet below still needs controlling. Quickly, you snap out orders, and in their joy, the rebels set to their work with a renewed enthusiasm that has them finding creative methods to help. The Moff is quickly locked securely in one of his own cells. You quickly set to work on the Moff’s computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as you try to decrypt his files, before the Force whispers a warning. 

It’s not a warning of danger. It’s a warning to brace yourself for another shift. You frown, carefully doubling down on your shields. Nothing. What is the Force-

Another shift, stronger than the death of Palpatine, nearly throws you off the chair. The darkness of Vader disappears, turning a familiar, long-forgotten Light that has you gasping in shock, before it too disappears into the netherworld of the Force, leaving behind a perfect grey that fills you with peace. Tension you didn’t know you had lifts from your chest and your breath catches as the Force sings at the rightness of being _balanced_ for the first time in years. 

For the first time in decades, you cry tears of joy.

And you know that without a doubt, Anakin Skywalker has returned from the Dark, that he has brought balance, and that he is finally at peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took inspiration for the scene of Obi-Wan's death from "A Certain Point of View". Fantastic book, I highly recommend reading or listening to its audiobook. 
> 
> (Uh, spoilers for A Certain Point of View? It's literally ANH from different perspectives, though, so I'll write my thoughts here.)  
> In the short story "There is Another" in that book, Yoda senses Obi-Wan growing stronger before being killed, yet he also senses Anakin falling deeper into loneliness as he cuts down his former master. I headcanon that since Ahsoka had a strong bond with Obi-Wan, while she may not be as strong in the Force as Yoda (she's still hella strong though), she could sense his passing in a similar fashion. The reason why she couldn't feel (or pinpoint that it was) Anakin's loneliness was because in the previous chapter, he snapped the training bond to prevent her from using it against him.


End file.
